THE CHRONICLES OF PHILIPPA EILHART
by Helon-Heels
Summary: Filling in the blanks of the life of our favorite sorceress of The Lodge, Philippa Eilhart. Explores the hurt she felt when her lover, Cynthia, betrayed her- The questioning in her waning power- What she was doing between Witcher 2 and Witcher 3- And finally, the search for her lost love, Sile de Tansarville. Lots of Political and emotional drama, as well as some "Lesbomancy"...;)
1. Chapter 1

The Chronicles of Philippa Eilhart

By Helen Masters

Chapter One: _**Nilfgaardian Bitch!**_

A barrage of shouting rolled through the town of Vergen.

High on a rocky hill, behind a closed red door, tension rose to deafening highs.

A slight figured woman lay bare-breasted atop disheveled maroon sheets, her eyes as blue as the deep sea. Her gaze was locked-on to a set of honey brown eyes that flared with anger at the sight of her lying so comfortably while she raged on.

"I said get out of my house, Nilfgaardian bitch! It's not enough you took advantage of my trust, but you try and take my pride to?! Get OUT!" Philippa's eyes burned with a fire, deep as the pits of hell.

Cynthia simply smirked. "Why don't you come join me Philippa? You're so cute when you're angry. It really turns me on." She taunted her with every word she spoke, oozing sex with every breath. She spread herself across the bed and flipped her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, is that what you told Dandelion before you deflowered him? " She laughed a low, malicious laugh, while adjusting her crimson robe more snugly to her curvaceous bosom. She glided across the oak floor and positioned herself at the edge of the bed. Her red painted fingertips caressed Cynthia's thin chin and urged her close.

There was a moment of silence. Philippa Eilhart studied her partners face, as if to plan out her next move.

Her usually calm, prideful demeanor had been shaken straight to the core after finding out about what Cynthia had been up to; Sleeping around whenever Philippa was away, participating in necromancy in her quarters, stealing her valuables, and even conspiring against her precious King of Redania. She had taken this woman in and loved her, despite her being of Nilfgaard. She taught her everything she knew about sorcery and alchemy, fed her, clothed her, and even shared a bed with her. Finally, she had opened her heart up to someone after shutting it off for so long, only to have been betrayed once more.

Sile De Tansarvile had been her last lover, of 50 years mind you. But when she found out about King Henselt and his ailment, she just up and left without a word to seek fame and fortune. She hadn't seen Sile for 17 years….oh how she loved her; How long her chocolate brown hair was when she took it down, and those dark brown eyes. She could stare into them for hours without a care in the world. And her lips… so sweet with—

She felt a pair of lips touch her own. Deep in her own thoughts, she allowed herself to be pulled into a hot kiss. Butterflies erupted in her tummy, as her mind warped herself into believing that her former lover had engulfed her in a passionate kiss.

"Sile…"

She smiled through the kiss at the thought of her name.

A hand tugged at one of her mahogany colored braids, and a tongue traced her defined jawline. Philippa moaned at the motion. Suddenly, a nibble at her throat and a hand up her robe made her lose it, her back arched and she took in a sharp gasp. But that was only a tease- Sile positioned her lips by Philippa's ear.

"So, I guess you've forgiven me?" She purred.

"Of course I've forgiven you.. I'm so glad you came back to me.." Philippa smiled.

"I love you S—!" …

She opened her eyes…only to find that she was facing..

"Cynthia…" She was almost shocked… but then she remembered.

She turned away and sat on the edge of the bed. Her face turned a mild red. Tears swelled up in her honey eyes, so she bit her lip to try and fight them off.

Again, there was no noise.

Cynthia sat there in her nakedness, aghast. What had just happened?

A beautiful pair of round, porcelain, shoulders quivered before her.

She slowly reached out to touch them, to comfort them, but before she could touch,

"Cynthia." A broken, hallowed voice bellowed through the sorceress' quarters.

"You have been unfaithful to me, you have stolen from me, you have taken advantage of me, but you will not take what's left of my pride. Get out of my house you filthy… whore."

Cynthia slowly rose, covering herself with her white blanket. She crossed halfway to the door and turned to Philippa. She shifted her weight so that the floor creaked. Yet, Philippa's eyes still gazed at the floor.

"Philippa Eilhart, once the most powerful sorceress in all the Northern Kingdoms. How far you have fallen." Cynthia chuckled. " Once a prideful mage, now she can't even look a leashed sorceress in the eye. How pitiful. You're age has caught up to you,.." She dribbled all over the world _age_ , knowing the word had power over the witch.

Philippa bit her lip even harder now, so that blood pooled at the corner of her mouth. A low growl formed in her lungs. Yet, she still dare not look her partner in the eye.

"…Your spells haven't near the power they once had, and your looks, Ohohoh, your looks have suffered just as greatly. "

The room started to vibrate.

"Tell me, Eilhart, are you ill? Have you fallen prey to some terrible ailment that's slowly draining the life right out of you, is that it?"

Louder.

Philippa clung to her broken heart.

"Is that why you left Redania in such a hurry? Better to disappear than to let your precious King know that you've become worthless. Am I right?"

Elixers started to fall from their shelves, tables shook across the room. Cynthia now had to yell to communicate.

"Or maybe, just maybe, you're still not over your past relationship. Maybe she left you because she figured out that you were faltering, eh Philippa? She chose a job over you! And how low must you become to not even deserve the love of a vile creature such as **Sile De Tansarvile**!?"

 _Stillness._

 _Silence._

"…. _Get out_ …"

Her voice was soft, yet so full of pain.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you." Cynthia smiled, thinking she had won.

But slowly, Philippa rose from the bed. Her bloodshot eyes looked straight into the soul of the blonde woman before her.

"… _Get…."_

She brought her arms up to shoulder height, her palms were flexed, her red fingertips taught. A yellow essence engulfed her hands. The mountain itself that the house was dug in to began to whistle and shake. Shelves fell off of the walls- dresser drawers were torn out of their homes, sucked up into a vicious whirlwind, then joined by glasses and vials and books and bed-sheets and candles and herbs…everything.

" _ **OOUUTTTTT!**_ _"_


	2. Chapter 2

The Chronicles of Philippa Eilhart

By Helen Masters

Chapter 2: A Missing Piece

With a flick of the mage's wrist, the Nilfgaardian traitor disappeared to thin air. Philippa had every intention of destroying her right then and there… but Cynthia was right. Her power had begun to wane. It took everything she had just to cast a teleportation spell on her.

She uneasily stood in the red doorway of her home, swaying like a drunken harlot. Mahogany braids heaved up and down on a strong, freckled back as Philippa struggled to catch her breath. Sweat pooled on her forehead, her hands shook wildly.

There was an uncomfortable stillness in the air.

All of the villagers in the square were frozen in their steps, gazing worriedly up at the once world renowned sorceress.

Eilhart sensed them, and at an instant, stood erect.

"Get back to your business!" She barked. The people scattered back to what they were doing, but carefully eyed her as they did so.

She stood stiffly and proud, her head held high as she glared at the _peasants_ below her. On the outside, pretty as a picture, proud as a lioness- but on the inside, shaken, devastated, and…

Was she _afraid_?

Swiftly, she danced her way back into the house, shutting the door behind her. But as soon as the door was shut, the jig was up.

Her graceful dance of a walk diminished to a lowly shuffle of tired feet- her posture grew hunched and depressive. She meandered over to her, now shattered, mirror and gingerly placed her hand on her reflected bust.

"Is it true?" She murmured as she traced the lines of her appearance with her manicured finger.

"Am I… _old_? _Ugly? Weak?"_ She paused her tracing as she came across a fine wrinkle beginning to form between her knitted brows. Her shelf of herbs and elixirs had been strung out and broken across the room. Her eyes searched for her age elixir, but only found the shattered glass bottle that held it.

A deep sign came from her lips. Her honey eyes returned to her reflection, only to see that the whites were smothered by blood. Her once peachy glow was now only an echo of the past- replaced by a dull, grey appearance. Ruby lips were chapped and rough- an abundance of freckles were speckled around her nose. Skin was dry and dull…she looked tired, sick..the only reminder of her liveliness lived in her eyes, flecked with gold and ambition.

The ridged reflection soured her stomach. She couldn't bear it, why has her reflection betrayed her?! Her knees rose to her chest as she sunk to the floor, her chin met bosom. The signature scent of cinnamon kissed her nostrils.

It was very quiet. Almost peaceful, yet unbearably lonesome.

"I'm alone again…" Her sultry voice broke as she held back the salty weakness.

"Maybe….maybe I am sick." Her breathing was ragged and panicked, her breasts heaved, yet no tear fell from her watering eyes.

The wind softly caressed her warm cheek, nudging the velvet curtains hung on the windows, and picking up a crumpled piece of paper and tossing it over into Philippa's lap.

This startled the witch. She inhaled sharply, which caused her lungs to start convulsing, breathing was difficult, her throat was tight and hot, her face was red…but still she did not cry.

Until she opened the paper.


End file.
